


A Million Lifetimes

by literaltrash7



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: @akayonagiftexchange, @rest-in-bees, Angst, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt, Lost Memories, Zeno feels are a good way to end 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaltrash7/pseuds/literaltrash7
Summary: He doesn't want to continuously live through this cycle of uncertainty, frustration, and sorrow. Besides, without the precious memories he looks back on so fondly, how much longer will his sanity stay intact? Right now, it’s frayed at the edges, the recovered memories preventing it from completely unraveling.





	A Million Lifetimes

**Author's Note:**

> First, I would like to dedicate this to @rest-in-bees for the 2017 Akatsuki no Yona Secret Santa (and thanks to @akayonagiftexchange for hosting this event). This is my first Akatsuki no Yona fan fiction and after lots of blood, sweat, and tears, I'm pretty satisfied with the result! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> ***
> 
> Edit:  
> This fanfic has been reedited. Previously known as A Million Lifetimes, Eleven Names.

He wakes from his long slumber and is not sure how many years have passed. Two hundred? Two thousand? More likely the latter, because there’s no way he’d forget everything in a mere two hundred years. He is only certain about two things: (1) His name is Zeno and (2) He is, always has been, and always will be the Ouryuu.

Zeno looks up to the cloudy sky as small rain droplets splash upon his deceptively youthful face. His first thought is of food, that is until he realizes he has no money. His gaze falls upon the golden medallion a dear friend had gifted him what seemed like eons ago, which it probably was. Zeno remembers that the medallion always returns and, suddenly, a wave of memories comes crashing down on him.

The metallic clang of clashing weapons resonates in his mind as memories of bloody battles overtake him, continuously chipping away at the remaining vestiges of his sanity. Zeno begs for it to stop and then it does; all of it disappears as he feels himself being pulled into a loving embrace, a happy memory from what seems like a different life. The only thing he sees is bright red, not like the gruesome red of the blood that taints his other memories, but the dazzling red of a brilliant sunrise, a new dawn. He hears his own voice say, “My King…” The person with red hair pulls back and that is when Zeno remembers how beautiful his king was.

He tears up at the sweet memory as his king smiles endearingly, takes off the medallion he wears, and bestows it upon Zeno. The King then says something and Zeno can’t forgive himself for ever forgetting about it, “It is proof that I will always be with you.”

He disappointingly returns to the present, his mind reeling with words that had been left unspoken for over millenia because there was no one to listen.  _ Hiryuu, Hiryuu, Hiryuu… How could I have ever forgotten my precious king? The man who meant everything and so much more to me? _

The full weight and severity of the curse he carries is bearing down on him. His legs give out from under him as gut-wrenching sobs violently wrack his body. Zeno’s breaths come in short gasps and it feels like he’s about to die from suffocation -- though he knows fully well that he can’t, no matter how much he wants to. Everyone is gone and it’s just him left in this terribly lonely world. Who else has he forgotten?

 

~*~

 

Zeno’s past returns in broken fragments. He can recall the preeminent facts inscribed within his soul as a Dragon Warrior. As Ouryuu, he knows with every fiber of his being that he is to serve, protect, and never betray his master, the Red Dragon. However, as Zeno, he knows that he loves his king as Hiryuu, as his precious family -- not as a master he is bound to serve due to ancient pacts. Zeno’s love for the King burns even stronger than the dragon’s blood that flows within him, constantly reminding him of his duties as a Dragon Warrior.

It takes more for him to recall the seemingly minor things though. Sometimes, he’ll wander purposelessly, no destination in mind, and stumble upon a patch of flowers. He’ll feel a memory pulling at his mind and he'll suddenly be back in the palace courtyard, looking at a patch of the same kind of flowers with Hiryuu. He’ll remember the way Hiryuu’s hair would look like a blazing fire in the sunlight. All the little things would return to him and he longed for more.

Zeno longs to remember his brothers from so long ago. He remembers what they were: Hakuryuu, Seiryuu, and Ryokuryuu; but he has no recollection of who they were. It’s infuriating. Before, he could recall the smallest things about his loved ones. But now, the impressions they had left on his heart have long faded as if they had never been there at all.

Zeno can't even remember their names, which he had once held even closer than his own. Now that he remembers Hiryuu, Zeno repeats his name at least a hundred times a day, so he’ll never forget again. He’ll be chopping wood,  _ Hiryuu, Hiryuu, Hiryuu,  _ or gathering fruit,  _ Hiryuu, Hiryuu, Hiryuu. _

The name is a soft lullaby and he’ll fall asleep with the life he had lived so long ago playing  through his mind. He’ll try reaching up as far as he can, as if hoping that if he reaches far enough, he'll be able to get to the heavens and see his family just once. It doesn't have to be much, just a glimpse. One quick moment in the face of an eternity isn’t too much to ask for, is it?

 

~*~

 

It happens for the second time when Zeno falls into a frozen lake. His endless wandering had brought him to the northern mountains of Kouka. He’d been careless and had not been looking where he was stepping, enchanted by the serene beauty of the snowy mountains. It wasn't until he heard a crack beneath his feet did he finally look down, but it was already too late. The thin ice gave out from beneath him and he was pulled into the lake’s freezing depths.

He's sinking but he doesn't struggle to reach the surface. He simply stays there, letting the water pull him in deeper.  His face is turned upwards and he can see the sun breaking through the darkness. Zeno weakly lifts his hand up to catch the rays, no, not just the rays or little bits of light. He wants the sun, all of it, and he’s come to terms with his selfishness.

His hand closes around what he believes to be light but then he feels the cold claws of a scaly hand grab on to him. The powerful hands grip him with great strength, yet he knows they’d never hurt him. They hold onto him tightly, but not aggressively, saying, “You’re okay now, I've got you, and I won't let you go.”

Zeno sees whose hands it is -- a large man clad in white furs with a rugged battleworn face. _ Hakuryuu,  _ Zeno thinks as the man pulls him out of the lake.

He’s hunched over on his hands and knees, coughing up the lakewater from his lungs. Someone squats down to his level and Zeno looks up. His dear brother, the first Hakuryuu, meets Zeno’s widened eyes with his own, clouded in concern.

_ Guen.  _ Zeno’s heart is racing and the memories are coming back. Guen, who always took on the role of their oldest brother like it was as big of an honor as being a Dragon Warrior. Guen, who'd tried teaching Zeno how to fight in order to protect himself, saying, “You need to be able to save yourself when I can’t be there -- as much as I want to be.” Guen, who’d once saved Zeno when he’d been reckless and had fallen into a frozen lake.

Zeno snaps out of his reverie when he realizes Guen is saying something, “Ouryuu, Ouryuu! Zeno! Are you okay? You scared me half to death!”

Zeno looks at him and then at his surroundings. He’s not in the same mountain range he was in when he fell -- this is a different location, in the midst of a memory from thousands of years ago. He looks back to Guen, ignoring the tears prickling at the back of his eyes, and finds his voice, “... Yeah, thanks,”

His burnings lungs pull him from the memory. He opens his eyes and all he can see is the water as well as the sun and ice overhead. There is no Guen to save him now.

He kicks his legs and fights to get back to the surface, struggling to break free of the water’s icy chains that keep him shackled to the lake’s freezing depths. His lungs burn from the water but he struggles with every ounce of strength he can muster from his cursed body. He repeats the names he remembers in his head to give himself strength.  _ Hiryuu, Guen. _

Zeno takes a desperate gulp of the fresh winter air as his head breaks the surface of the lake. He’s alone again in the northern mountain range. He’s alone but he’s smiling and his laughter resonates throughout the desolate mountains. Another name has taken its rightful place in his heart.

 

~*~

 

He stumbles upon an injured baby bird. When the bird sees him, it chirps pitifully. Zeno gently takes the bird into his hands and inspects it to find the problem. Ah, there it is! An injured wing. Judging from its appearance, it had previously been stuck in something, perhaps a trap or trash. He sets the bird back down with care to pull out his supplies in order to nurse it back to health. Zeno feels a strange sense of familiarity but shakes it off to focus on the bird.

Once he’s taken care of it and wraps its wing, he begins to look for the bird’s nest. He strains his ears and hears chirps from a nearby tree. He gets closer and sees that these birds have feathers the same shade of blue as the one he saved.

He brings the injured bird and places it amongst its brethren. As he watches the small creatures cuddling against each other, he feels the memories rushing forward.

Zeno is standing in the palace courtyard, straining to get a better look at the nest resting on a branch at least three feet above him. “Ouryuu! Over here! There’s one over here!” Zeno turns to the source of the voice -- the first Seiryuu.

He’s breathtakingly beautiful with delicate features framed by hair the color of the sky on a pleasant spring day. His golden dragon’s eyes, usually burning with ferocity, are now crinkled at the edges from his fond smile. It is that smile that brings back the rainy days they would spend in the library together and the nights they would stargaze together, entranced by the tales they would weave about the constellations, finer than any stories their minds could conjure within their slumbers. It is the memory of that kind smile that calls forth Seiryuu’s name to his lips. “Abi.”

Zeno comes at Abi’s insistent beckoning. A family of bluebirds sit in the tree, chirping contently amongst themselves. Neither Abi or Zeno say anything but the comforting silence broken only by the twittering birds says plenty.

Zeno opens his eyes and Abi is no longer there.

 

~*~

  
Sometimes wandering is tiring. Not physically though -- Zeno could walk for as long as he likes, for eternity even, if he so desired. But one can only take so much loneliness. He decides to stay in a town for a while with the hard-earned money he saved up from doing menial tasks and manual labor. After he’s booked a room at a small inn, he goes to a tavern to help clear his thoughts. Though alcohol has little to no effect on him, it’s better than nothing. Besides, he must admit that it’s a little fun to act tipsy, as if his eccentricities are the result of good booze.

However, he disappointingly isn't getting drunk tonight. Before he can even take his first swig, he sees a rowdy group of drunk men singing an old folk tune. Once more, his mind is pulled back to the past.

Zeno is sitting at a table in the ballroom, an untouched cup of sake set before him. From behind him, he hears a familiar voice yell, “What fucking asshole--!”

A ferocious looking man with razor sharp teeth and green hair suddenly swoops in from behind. He confiscates Zeno’s sake and downs it himself in one gulp.

The first Ryokuryuu licks his lips in satisfaction before turning to the other partygoers, yelling, “What dumbshit let the kid drink? He’s like twelve!”

No one answers, either because they’re too afraid or too drunk, and Ryokuryuu turns back to Zeno with an exasperated tsk. His brazen grin softens at the edges and he leans in to quietly mutter, “Hey, pansy, if you’re not feeling well or are uncomfortable, leave. I’ll cover for you.”

Despite the insult, Ryokuryuu’s surprisingly gentle concern brings an onslaught of memories. The way he would turn away from Zeno when he seemed unwell in front of other people, yet when others appeared to be out of earshot, he would whisper his concerns and reassurances to Zeno (with a side of his trademark name calling). The way Ryokuryuu would deny their bond of brotherhood but would throw himself into the fray before any of his brothers, or the king, had the opportunity to get hurt in the initial shock of the battle, insisting that it was simply because of his bloodlist even when they all knew it was so much more. His name bombards every thought in Zeno’s mind. Shuten.

Zeno’s memories return to the party and Shuten is telling him again that it’s okay to leave.  _ Leave? Why would I leave now that you’re finally here? _

But then he does leave because now he’s back in the rundown tavern rather than the ballroom. Zeno takes a huge swig of his sake, wondering if it was as good as the one Shuten never let him drink.

 

~*~

 

_ Hiryuu, Guen, Abi, Shuten,  _ his mind chants endlessly at all hours to ensure that he’ll never forget again. As Zeno wanders, he takes note of the beautiful day and the enchantment of the never ending sky. He decides to stop for a while and enjoy a bit of cloud watching. He settles at the base of a large oak tree and leans back in comfort. It’s quiet; he’d passed the nearest town about two days ago. Here in the countryside, he relishes in the serenity of sweet silence. Though he himself can be rather loud and bubbly, it’s sometimes nice to get some peace and quiet.

Zeno gazes upwards at the bright blue sky dotted with pearly white clouds. He closes his eyes as he can feel the warmth from the sun’s rays dancing upon his soft features. He opens them when he feels someone leaning against him at the base of a different tree.

It’s a young girl, seemingly, Zeno’s physical age. Her short brown hair is soft against his cheek and her left hand is intertwined in his right. The girl's face is peaceful and angelic as she rests against him. Zeno suddenly moves and the girl opens her eyes, which are the warmest brown he’s ever seen. She looks at him and gives the smallest yet sweetest smile.

“Zeno.” The girl simply utters his name but it warms his very soul. How could he have forgotten how much he loved the way she said his name as if he was her everything? How could he have forgotten the peaceful days during which they would simply enjoy each other’s company, sometimes talking all day and into the night, sometimes saying nothing at all, simply basking in each other’s presence? How could he have forgotten the terrible illness that took her from him and all his prayers for her wellbeing that had gone unanswered? How could he have forgotten how much he loved her, his beloved wife Kaya?

He opens his eyes and he’s alone at the base of the tree. He is unable to see the clouds through his vision, now blurred by tears.

Five names are now ingrained upon his old heart.

 

~*~

 

Centuries have passed ever since those five names returned to him. Kouka flourishes and there’s so much change that even Zeno’s old heart is overwhelmed. New leaders come and go and new technologies and customs take the country -- and the world -- by storm. But not a day has gone by where Zeno does not repeat the names of his dearest family. Hiryuu, Guen, Abi, Shuten, Kaya.

He’s now sitting on the forest floor sipping some stew he made earlier that day. It’s rather bland and Zeno recalls that he used to be a good cook, wondering when exactly he lost his touch. “Egh, how disappointing,” he mutters. “The lad’s was way better.”

His bowl drops with a thud to the ground. “What…” the flavorless soup trickles into the grass, now forgotten, “... was his name again?”

 

~*~

 

Why now? Why not centuries ago when he was remembering Hiryuu and the others? He’d completely forgotten them. Not just that, they’d been entirely erased from his mind, as if they’d never been there in the first place. As if his second family, the ones who gave his life purpose after losing the original generation and Kaya, had never existed. He can’t remember anything -- what they looked like, how their voices sounded, what their names were -- nothing.

Zeno is walking through a heavy downpour, the rain soaking his clothes. But he doesn’t care. He lets the rain pound mercilessly onto him as he stumbles through the storm unable to see and unsure of his destination. It doesn’t matter now; it never did. He trips over a tree root and badly scrapes his hands as he falls. Instead of getting up, he watches the rain wash away the blood and dirt to reveal smooth, unblemished skin, the cut having already closed up.

His trembling hands are balled into fists and the tears that are beginning to spill from his eyes mix with the rain. Zeno cries and screams with everything he has, pounding the ground and then himself angrily. His sorrow echoes throughout the forest and reaches towards the limitless skies that keep him from heaven and his loved ones..

He’s lived hundreds, no, thousands of miserable lives. He at least wants to remember the happy ones. Zeno is so frustrated at himself for ever forgetting. They had all been there once: Hiryuu, Guen, Abi, Shuten, Kaya, and his second family. Centuries have passed ever since he thought he had finally remembered them all, unaware of how much he’d actually forgotten.

Now, simply remembering apparently isn’t enough. He longs to have them by his side again rather than just his unreliable recollection, for it is the only way to ensure that they’ll never fade from his mind again, no matter how many centuries pass. However, knowing that this isn't possible, all he can do is plead and scream prayers that will go unanswered.

 

~*~

 

Zeno is sitting on a grassy hill, watching the sunrise by himself when the little miss returns. Up until now, he couldn’t recall anything about her or the others except for the silly titles he used as substitutes for their actual names. Looking back, he questions why he didn't use their names in the first place. He had probably thought that, in not using their names, it would be easier to part with them: the little miss, her mister, the young lad,  and the Hakuryuu, Seiryuu, and Ryokuryuu of that time.

He hears the thunk of something hitting a tree standing a few ways back from where is staring at the red tinted sky. Zeno turns just in time to see another arrow embed itself in the tree’s trunk. More importantly, he sees the archer. It is a young girl, her kind face hardened by determination and her fiery red hair billowing in the fresh breeze of a new dawn. She fires another arrow, hitting the trunk dead center, and shouts with glee at her success.

Her blissful face and sweet laugh tug at something buried deep within Zeno. This is different from the other times. Unlike the others, she does not return in an old memory. She comes alone but it is enough. Her presence reaches outwards toward Zeno and engulfs him like a warm embrace, almost as if saying, “I’m here! You can’t possibly forget now!”

She is his dear master but is also so much more than that. She is a sweet, hard-working girl who had always pushed herself past her limits for the sake of her family and her people. She is Yona.

The ethereal Yona smiles even brighter when he comes to this conclusion and disappears when the dawn has passed.

 

~*~

 

Yona’s appearance has denied his worst suspicions -- the ones that persistently tell him that he’ll never remember. However, now he worries that after his memories return, he can’t be sure that they'll stay. Perhaps in his endless lifetime, they’ll come back again. Zeno doesn't want to go through that anymore though. He doesn't want to continuously live through this cycle of uncertainty, frustration, and sorrow. Besides, without the precious memories he looks back on so fondly, how much longer will his sanity stay intact? Right now, it’s frayed at the edges, the recovered memories preventing it from completely unraveling.

These thoughts plague him tonight as he tries to slip into the sweet relief of unconsciousness, in his dreams, he is able to lie and convince himself that they never left, that they’re still there. That what is truly reality is one very cruel, very long nightmare.

He tries his best to push the pessimistic thoughts from his mind but, when his mind starts to slip away, he hears leaves crunching beneath steady footsteps. Zeno bolts upright, surprised that someone would be this far out in the countryside at night. He expects to see a bandit.

Instead, he sees a warrior, tall with black hair and a sturdy build. Zeno almost doesn't see him due to his dark clothes. He casually leans against a tree with the guandao Zeno remembers him always carrying in hand. Even with his relaxed demeanor, he looks intimidating. That is until he looks at Zeno, smirks, and playfully brings his fingers to his lips like he is demanding silence. Zeno remembers how that mischievous expression just as easily turned to murderous bloodlust during battle. He remembers the ever loyal young warrior, Hak.

Just like Yona, he is gone.

 

~*~

 

Zeno is in a meadow when the lad comes back. He walks with a slight bounce in his step when he sees the boy hunched over some plants. The youth seems to feel Zeno’s gaze for he turns to look at him and their eyes interlock.

The boy stands up and Zeno hungrily takes in every detail. From the lad’s soft, feminine features to the herbs bundled in his left hand. That’s right, he used to always gather herbs, sometimes to treat their wounds or illnesses, sometimes to season their food.  _ That’s why his food was always so good,  _ Zeno realizes. He can recall how the lad had tried to teach them all. He’d roll his eyes in exasperation at their incompetence but those eyes had also held a deep affection for them all. He’d scold them for their recklessness and cry over their wounds at the same time. And then he would be recklessly brave himself, standing before powerful armies with nothing but his wits and the love he had for his found family.

“Yun!” Zeno cries delightedly and the boy who had once protected Zeno, even with fearful tears spilling from his eyes, fades like mist.

 

~*~

 

The snowfall is gentle and the flakes softly settle on his clothes. He takes a deep breath to take in the cool winter air and exhales, his breath dancing upon frosty winds. The snow is like an awakening and refreshes him. Zeno marvels at how this little simplicity of nature can bring him such joy. He laughs and breaks into a run, leaving a flurry of snow in his wake.

He relishes in the sweet freedom, the feeling of the snow beating against his face, the winter winds rushing at him, and the cool air in his lungs. Zeno is running so fast that he almost misses it. But he doesn't and comes to a sudden stop, almost slipping in his haste.

There, standing amidst the falling snow, is a young man almost completely camouflaged with his white attire. As Zeno gets closer, he sees the man’s beautiful, delicate features. And, though also white, a scaled arm glinting in the sunlight.

That’s when Zeno remembers the ferocity of those claws in the midst of combat and how easily they can tear a man inside out. He also remembers the gentleness of those claws resting upon his shoulders in concern after particularly difficult battles and how they would pull him into a tight embrace, seeking solace for both of them. The deadly yet kind claws of Hakuryuu Kija.

A whirlwind of snow engulfs Kija and he is gone with the wind.

 

~*~

Zeno sees Seiryuu on one of the brightest nights he can recall. He stands in the middle of a forest clearing shrouded in black until the light of fireflies and the full moon shine on him.

Seiryuu puts his sword into the sheath on his back and raises his arms to the sky, very much like Zeno on many occasions. Zeno tries to move in closer to him, rustling the tall grass by his feet. Seiryuu turns and lifts the mask he’s wearing off his face. And though Zeno knows he isn’t using his power, Seiryuu’s eyes make him freeze. Even at this distance, Zeno can see the tears spilling down his face.

For once, Zeno is not the one crying. He’d have expected this from the emotional Kija, not his stoic Seiryuu. But Seiryuu has always been tenderhearted and he is the one with his arms outstretched right now, taking slow, hesitant steps towards him, as if Zeno will be the one who disappears if he gets too close, as if Seiryuu is telling him, “Please don’t leave. Don’t let go of me.”

The fireflies are flickering around him and the light shines so brightly on him, this precious child of the moon. Shin-ah.

Unlike the others, Shin-ah doesn’t disappear immediately. But he does stop in his tracks at the same time Zeno starts walking. The tears have finally come and he steadily quickens his pace, apologizing over and over for forgetting.

He should’ve remembered how much Shin-ah’s name meant to him, especially since Zeno knew that he had received it eighteen years too late due to years of rejection and neglect. And even after all he’d been through, Shin-ah’s heart had stayed so strong. Zeno wanted to hold him close the same way Shin-ah had for him all those lifetimes ago.

Zeno is so close to him now that he leaps at Shin-ah. He hopes to be met with the softness of his fur but lands hard on the ground, Shin-ah having already disappeared.

 

~*~

 

The village is lively tonight, caught up the festivities. Zeno’s not sure really what they’re celebrating until he asks a man selling pastries. The man tells him that they are celebrating the harvesting of the crops, which Zeno finds surprising. “It’s not very common to hear that nowadays,” he remarks, “Most people have their food imported from other places rather than growing it themselves.”

“That’s why we have a grand festival for it!” the man exclaims enthusiastically. After Zeno buys a pastry, the seller goes to help another customer. It’s nice that this little village so far from modern society has stayed true to its roots. It reminds Zeno that the lives he’s lived weren’t an illusion, that they were real. It’s easy to forget that these days with everything changing. Everything but him.

“Hey, mister!” Zeno hears, and he feels small hands tugging at his clothes. He looks down and sees a group of small children looking at him with twinkling eyes and toothy grins. One of them points at Zeno’s hair and says, “I like your hair!”

Zeno opens his mouth to thank him but before he can, another one excitedly says, “Hey, you’re not from around here! Are you a traveling entertainer? Is that why you’re so flashy?”

_ Flashy?  _ Zeno muses when a third child, just as bubbly as his friends exclaims, “Yeah, with hair like that, you must be! Can you show us a trick?”

_ Why not?  _ he thinks,  _ It’s not like I have anywhere else to be. And they’re so cute! Cute, cute, cute! _

“Sure!” Zeno answers just as enthusiastically, “You kids happen to have any balls with you?”

He spends most of the evening entertaining the children, providing all sorts of spectacles for the bystanders. He juggles, sings, dances (sometimes all at once), and participates in their silly games. And, seeing their smiles and hearing their bright laughter, he is reminded of why he wanted to become the Ouryuu in the first place.

“This world… everyone… if I can make them just a little happier then… that dragon blood… give it to me,” he’d once told Ouryuu so many years ago, back when he was truly young. Before he knew of the hardship and suffering that awaited him. However, he still stands by what he said.  _ I will protect their smiles and their happiness. That is my duty, my promise, as the Ouryuu. _

After a while, the children’s parents come to retrieve them to watch the fireworks together. They bid him farewell and he sits a little ways off, watching the fireworks by himself. He is spellbound by the lights and colors dancing across the night sky.

As soon as the fireworks show is over, the musicians play a lively tune and villagers scramble for friends and family. Soon, everyone is stomping their feet and clapping their hands in time to the music. Their laughter and cheerful voices resonate together through the village square. Zeno stands alone to the side and simply watches. It’s fine; he was only meant to be a bystander anyway, but he's rather sad that none of his friends or family are here to dance with him now.

_ Well, it was fun while it lasted,  _ he thinks and turns to leave with a resigned sigh. However, just as he takes his first step, out the corner of his eye, he sees a blur of green whip past him. Zeno turns around and sees Ryokuryuu dancing amongst the villagers.

His movements are both elegant and flamboyant, so much that Zeno momentarily thinks that the other people can see him too. How could they not, with Ryokuryuu’s extravagant dancing? His precious laughter triggers an awakening deep within Zeno’s heart. He watches Ryokuryuu’s rhythmic steps with widened eyes, reminded of the evenings they would stay up drinking into the night when the younger ones had fallen asleep. They would talk endlessly about whatever thought came to them with their boisterous laughter echoing through their little camp.

And though he remembers Ryokuryuu’s silly, over dramatic antics, Zeno also recalls his soothing voice when he held one of them close when they needed him the most. Zeno remembers the broken boy who insistently fled from his predetermined destiny and the gallant young man he became. A man who, with a passion stronger than the mightiest armies, protected and fought for the people he’d once run from and despised. His name was--

“Jae-ha!”

Ryokuryuu throws Zeno one last disarming smile and then he leaves to rejoin the rest of his family. A massive weight that Zeno has been unaware of carrying for the past millennia is, at last, lifted from his chest.

They’re all here again, each and every one of them. He’s sure of it now. He’ll never let himself forget ever again. And most importantly, they’ll never let him forget. His heart is lighter for the first time in forever.

 

~*~

 

“Zeno? Zeno! Wake up!”

Someone is shaking him awake and a girl’s voice rings in his head. He sees fiery red hair and a pair of youthful violet eyes hovering over him as he groggily opens his own. Around the girl’s head, he can make out tree branches and the bright reddish sky of dawn. He blinks and the sky and branches are replaced with a white ceiling and fluorescent lighting. But the girl is still there.

“Sorry, are you tired?” Yona asks innocently when Zeno doesn’t say anything. “You can go back to sleep if you want, but I just thought you wanted to watch with us.”

“He’d better!” Yun shouts from across the room where he’s trying to pull up the movie, “Since he’s the one who keeps pestering me about it!”

“Now, now, Yun,” Jae-ha says lazily from his spot on the couch beside Kija, “Kids need their sleep. As a mother, you should know that.”

Yun makes an annoyed sound and turns back to the television. Zeno is fully awake by now and he plops down beside Shin-ah, “No, I’m all right! I just dozed off for a bit!”

Hak nods as if in agreement while setting a bowl of popcorn in front of him, “That’s understandable. I’d fall asleep too if I had to sit through whatever White Snake is droning on about these days. Difference is, I’d never wake up.”

Kija, looking rather insulted, starts, “You rude--!”

“Got it!” Yun exclaims, settling next to Yona as the movie starts.

When the opening credits come onscreen, Shin-ah leans in closer to Zeno, whispering, “It’s okay if you’re not feeling well.”

“I’m fine, Shin-ah,” Zeno answers. They’re all so cute, worrying about him! “Thanks.”

_ I’m better than fine because, after all this time, we’re all together again,  _ he wants to say. There are so many things he wants to say to his family. He wants to tell them about their grand adventures together all those lifetimes ago. He wishes to tell them the tale of a princess, a warrior, a healer, and a white, a blue, a green, and a yellow dragon. He wants to thank them, to hold them and never let them go, telling them, “Thank you for coming back to me when I needed you the most, for pulling me from the depths of my despair. Even if you don’t remember our journey or your lives from so long ago, thank you for returning to me; awaiting at the rise of dawn and the fall of night, in the meadow, and amidst the snow and the moonlight, and for giving me back my purpose at the festival where I was overwhelmed by my terrible loneliness and wavering resolve.”

But he doesn't say any of those things, not because they wouldn’t believe him, but because he doesn’t need to. There is no need for warriors now. Everything is peaceful. Zeno sits among the same family he’d once traveled with a long, long time ago. And that is enough.

He wonders if the others are watching him now.  _ Take care,  _ he says to them,  _ I’m happy now. _

He still repeats the names daily even though thousands of years have passed. Hiryuu, Guen, Abi, Shuten, Kaya, Yona, Hak, Yun, Kija, Shin-ah, Jae-ha.

A million lifetimes, eleven names. Zeno has not forgotten once since then.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is appreciated. Happy holidays!


End file.
